


Art of Manipulation

by SS_Shitstorm



Category: Naruto
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Sex, Smut, youfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 14:03:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4609470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SS_Shitstorm/pseuds/SS_Shitstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Take a good look at my 'homely' little body," you purr in the most sultry voice you can manage, running a finger under his chin "Because I don't care HOW bad you need a lay, Deidara. You're NOT going to get it"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art of Manipulation

Yeah I wrote this years ago and it was up on another account somewhere else that I no longer have access to.

Enjoy.

 

***

 

“What do you MEAN I have to give him a fucking haircut?”

 

Silence, as you make long, sweeping movements across the canvas with your thickest brush, holding the thinner, horsehair one between your teeth.

 

“You don't have to give him a haircu-”

 

“Because I don't “do” close range fighting, un.” the blonde huffs, blowing a stray blonde bang out of his face. “And if you hadn't noticed, it's kinda hard to collect hair off a corpse after I blow it the fuck up.”

 

“Would you let me finish?” you mutter, taking the thinner brush from your lips and drawing long, lithe lines of varying length. “More of a goldenrod then neon.” “I don't need hair per-say, it's just generally more effective. I can make do with blood, skin, sometimes even clothes or a personal item.” you glance over, narrowing your eyes at him. “It shouldn't be that hard.”

 

“But it's STILL not my problem. YOU'VE been assigned to go corrupt this guy with your “voodoo” or whatever, un.”

 

“It's not “voodoo” you correct him, switching to a much fatter, shorter brush and making quick, light jabs at the painting before you in a deep cherry red.”Much more like a mixture of possession and medical jutsu” “Look Deidara-san, YOU'VE been assigned to help me, and as much as I'd like to do this on my own, I'm not much of a fighter, long range or no, and if I get caught taking a feudal lord's personal effects, Or hair, I'll die.”

 

And death was seeming like a pretty decent alternative at the time being. You're not a full-time Akatsuki member, far from it, actually, but your manipulation skills were unsurpassed,and when in need, Pein knew where to find you. Given even a single hair and you could have someone murder their entire family before dying a terrible death themselves at their own hands, all while completely aware, but unable to stop themselves from carrying through with the physical motions. Crafting the manipulable doll took hours, days even of uninterrupted concentration, chakra and sharply honed witchdoctor skills.

 

Unfortunately, it's very, VERY hard to concentrate with Deidara anywhere near you. And whenever you were assigned a mission, you were always, ALWAYS paired with the pyromaniac dumbass of a pretty boy.

 

A few final jabs, and violla. You rise your your seat and stand back, admiring your masterpiece. Damn, this was your best one yet. The colors, anatomy, every was so bright, so perfect-

 

“GODDAMNIT YOU PAINTED ME DEAD AGAIN!” 

 

He makes a motion as if you grab your painting, but you imminently pull the easel out of reach before he has the chance.

 

“I don't think so. “You say, sticking your tongue out in defiance. “Not after the last five you destroyed.”

 

If looks could kill(or in Deidara's case, cause things to spontaneously combust) you'd be in a billion pieces by now, as he glares at you, muttering under his breath.

 

“I don't understand why you're so upset.” you say, frowning. “It's not like I ever destroy your artwork.”

 

He lets out an indignant huff. “That's because mine destroys itself, un.” A lopsided smirk forms on his lips. “ Besides, you don't create “Art” you just void your bowels all over a canvas and call it a picture.”

 

“Funny, considering it always comes out looking like you.” you say, leering

 

“Pfft, you couldn't paint me if you tried. “ he sneers. “Freakin' women don't know the first thing about art, un.”

 

Okay, THAT was crossing the line. Through the many heated arguments you'd exchanged with your would-be-teammate, he's NEVER stooped as low as gender-discrimination.

 

“EXCUSE me?” you reply, setting your canvas aside to play your hand on your hip. “Women don't know art? We ARE art! The female body is a masterpiece all in it's own.”

 

Teal eyes narrow as a sneer distorts his feminine features. “You're one to talk, un. Frumpy, no tits, homely-”

 

You roll your eyes. This bullshit again. Every guy and his dog just assumed that you didn't have a figure because of the baggy clothes you always wore. You'd never really seen the need to bother with anything fancy, your job was pretty much restricted to crafting killers dolls, controlling hapless victims with said dolls, or when you weren't being employed by Akatsuki, painting. None of which required being out and about, or seen by the general populace. As such, you opted for more comfortable, functional clothing. Clothing that hid a much more curvacious figure that next to no-one knew about. Much less Deidara.

 

“-shapeless, unkempt, dreary,-”

 

And he was STILL managing to find insulting, increasingly obscure insulting adjectives.

 

“Deidara- you can stop now.” you blow out a breath. “I get the point. You find me about as attractive as a corpse.” you feel your cheeks heating up, angry that he'd actually gotten to you, and strangely disappointed. Whatever. Stupid pretty boy probably preferred the cock anyways. It's not like you cared. Anymore.

 

Admittedly, you did have a crush on him, back when you were first employed by the organization, and you'd nearly died of excitement when you'd been paired off with him. But relentless teasing, torment, and just generally being a dick quickly squashed your fangirl crush into oblivion.

 

“It's a shame, really.” he frowns. “I like you enough, and It's been ages since I've had a lay. If only you were a little girlier-”

 

You can actually feel some vital part of your brain snap in half. Because out of all the essentially nasty things Deidara had said to you in the past, NOTHING compared to this.

 

That was it.

 

You march right up to the feminine gorgeous asshole of a blonde, and while keeping your eyes, locked, unzip the long, loose dress you have on, letting it pile onto the floor, and with one hand, swiftly undo your bras, letting gracious double d's bounce loose. You smirk watching his jaw unhinge slightly, wearing an astonished expression unfitting of his know-it-all-nature.

 

“Take a good look at my “homely” little body,” you purr in the most sultry voice you can manage, running a finger under his chin “Because I don't care HOW bad you need a lay, Deidara. You're NOT going to get it.”

 

And with that, you make your way out of the room, throwing your bra over your shoulder, which, ironically enough, snags on Deidara's ponytail instead of falling to the floor.

 

***

 

It's taken three days, three days in which you worked hours on end to craft the doll, manged to finish a few commissions requested from your day-job, and Deidara got down on his knees and begged Pein to swap partners, on more than one occasion.

 

And finally, you were left with only one objective.

 

Retrieve the feudal lord's hair

 

There was a reason you were assigned to gain control of a politician rather than a powerful ninja or Kage, something about connections, openings, money, whatever. Pein didn't exactly bother telling you the details of his master plan, and you didn't ask, not only because you were being pain handsomely for the mission, but because Pein had told you straight out that he'd kill you if you didn't comply the first time he'd sought your help.

 

“ Maybe it would've been worth it” you think, clinging to dear life on one of Deidara's clay birds as you flew nearly a thousand feet above the ground. Heights hadn't really bothered you THAT much, but having nothing but a teammate that hates your guts between you and open sky would give anyone vertigo

 

You lurch forward as the bird hits a particularly hard crosswind, and you suddenly find nothing between you and open sky, and just as your life begins flashing before your eyes, you feel a hand grasping your wrist, and you look up to see a blue eye narrow, glaring at you.”

 

“Shit, un” he mutters, pulling you back aboard. “Be more careful!” and it's then you notice he appears worried, and this bothers you, because Deidara is never EVER worried, much less about you.

 

You swallow hard, averting you eyes, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid. “S-sorry. I'll-”

 

“Hold on this time.”

 

You raise your eyebrow. “I WAS holding on.”

 

“Not the bird, to me, un.”

 

Of course. He'd done this plenty of times before. It made sense.

 

What DIDN'T make sense is why you hesitate, and you feel your cheeks flushing as you wrap your hand around his waist, making sure to leave at least three inches between your bodies.

 

“Tighter, or you're gonna fall off again, un!”

 

Well fuck that. You bite your lip, blushing hard as you pull yourself closer, chin resting on his shoulder, wondering just what exactly was so attractive about the bastard in the first place. 

 

***

 

Three hours.

 

Three hours since you'd perched atop the feudal castle, three hours since you'd successfully infiltrated the building. Three hours since you'd located the target's quarters and lay in wait for the opportunity to retrieve enough DNA to complete the doll.

 

Three hours since the feudal lord had entered the bathroom. And as of yet failed to return.

 

And safe to say both of you are getting increasingly irritated with each passing minute. Stuffed into a not-so-spacious closet on the opposite side of the room isn't exactly fun, but it's the best vantage point you could find given how well lit the area is.

 

“Y'know,” Deidara elbows you softly in the side. “We COULD create a diversion.”

 

You roll your eyes. “You suggested that already. It's too risky. We have to wait for him to fall asleep and -then- I'll get the hair.”

 

“Shit, he's probably fallen asleep in the bathroom, “ he blows out a breath, warm against your shoulder and you shudder, not sure wither or not to be repulsed by the proximity of his face to your collar bone or nervous.

 

“It would be so easy, just one little explosion, it'd be more like a firecracker than anything else.” you can't tell if he's pleading with you or just wanted to hear his musing out loud, either way you feel the need to reprimand him with a sharp jab in his stomach.

 

“The fuck was that for?” he hisses.

 

“You're NOT going to fuck this up for me.” you seethe back, struggling to put more distance between your unintentionally entangled bodies. “If you alarm ANYONE, the guards will come, we'll have no choice but to kill EVERYONE, and Pain-sama will have my head!”

 

“Pffft, it's not like he won't roast MY ass too, un.”

 

“You don't get it. You're a powerful, valued ninja. I'm much, much more disposable. “ you grunt, attempting to remove his foot from your lap, and in the process panting your head in -his-

 

“Bullshit.” he smirks, apparently amused at the proximity of your head to his crotch. “You're valuable enough.”

 

“Not to Pain I'm not-”

 

“Forget Pain for now, you're valuable to ME, un.”

 

The reply is distant, almost quiet. You blink. Did you really just hear what you thought you did?

 

You look up from his lap into narrowed blue eyes, half closed, regarding you with a look you can't quite decipher.

 

“Deidara-?”

 

In a feat that defied everything you knew about physics and human anatomy, he cranes his neck down, just enough to scrape his lips over yours, faces opposite, upside down.

 

Is he?

 

In one swift, surprisingly silent motion, it's not upside down anymore, both rightside up, and he's cupping his face to yours, foreheads touching, and-

 

And he's kissing you. Oh god he's kissing you. Why the -fuck- is he kissing you?

 

Your world careens to a stop. The mission, the cramped closet, the nagging feeling that Pain can and WILL kill you if you weren't back on time all momentarily fades away. There's only you, and Deidara on top of you, the feeling of his lips against yours, breath on your neck(sharp pain in your cramped back) the warmth of his hands on your face.

 

He pulls back, either to come up for air or to gauge your reaction you can't tell, but there's an undeniably pretentious(punchable) smirk on his face that has your heart hammering against your ribcage.

 

“Is this because,” you inhale sharply, some semblance of common sense leaking back in “I showed you my tits? “ you blink slowly “Because that wasn't an open invitation, I was trying to prove a point-”

 

“No” Deidara interjects sincerely. “This-” he leans in, all at once cradling you and forcing you into a (slightly) more comfortable position “- is because I actually like you and haven't had a chance to do anything about it until now.”

 

Your mind is spinning, not only from the cramped space, the limited oxygen in said space or from the “far too attractive to be in this line of work” male shinobi pressed tightly against your body, but because out of all the stupid, baseless, and just plain nonsensical things Deidara had said in the past, this HAD to top the list.

 

“WHAT?” you blurt out in more of a hiss than a whisper “No you fucking don't! There hasn't been a single SECOND we've worked together you didn't spend verbally tearing my balls off!”

 

For once he looks slightly uncomfortable, a faint blush, which you admittedly find somewhat endearing heats up his face as he avoids your eyes.

 

“Yeah, I'm not all that good with girls, un. I never really managed to make my intentions clear without scaring them away.” He makes eye contact again, tentatively. “I thought you would've noticed how stupid I acted around you though, if nothing else.”

 

Your heart sinks a little. Though honestly no sane female would have ever mistaken Deidara's repeated insults as a pickup attempt, you should have at least picked up on how nervous he was in your proximity.

 

“I'm not sure. . .” you trail off, voice lightly wavering. “Deidara I don't really do casual sex. I haven't really done sex in YEARS. . .”

 

“It doesn't have to be 'casual', un.”

 

It's quiet, so quiet, as if he were indeed afraid he'd scare you off. You gaze up at him, eyes wide, and despite you being pinned, immobilized beneath him, he's somehow coming off as the helpless one.

 

You weigh your options, convincing yourself that he isn't lying, that he was the one that would be suffering if this didn't pull through.

 

That he was the one that desperately needed intimate contact, instead of you.

 

It's enough.

 

You free your arms, and in a mad flurry of motion pull his face back down to yours, initiating a powerful kiss. He holds back at first, surprised, shocked, but when realization dawns he doesn't hold back. Languid, silky and teasing against your mouth, breath hot on your face, then neck. He finds the smooth junction between neck and shoulder, biting down softly, and you dig your fingers into his hair, swearing under your breath.

 

It's hot, desperately impossibly hot in the tiny closet so heavily clothed. It comes as much needed relief when he manages to undo the front of your cloak and slide it over your shoulders, and your shirt along with it. He pauses for a moment, as if bewildered at the sight of your breast. It's then you notice the copious amount of sweat dripping from his face.

 

“Are, are you alright?” you manage once you catch your breath. “You're acting like you've never seen tits before.”

 

There's a long, awkward silence in which he compulsively studies the wall. You have to stifle a giggle. What with his trouble communicating with girls, and now his sudden aversion to nudity, one would almost think-

 

Wait.

 

Your eyes widen.

 

“You haven't seen breasts before. . . have you?” you start slowly. “Deidara, are you a-”

 

“I'm NOT a virgin! “ he spits “I just haven't seen tits before.”

 

“How the hell is THAT possible?”

 

“Because I've never had sex with a woman before, alright?” he hisses. “It's different, and fuck me I've got no idea what to do with these things!”

 

An idea forms in your head, something so deliciously taboo it sends a shudder running down your spine. Hey, it's not like you're the first chick to fantasize about teaching a guy the ropes for a change. You run your hand through his hair, soothing, your lips pursed in a smirk.

 

“What do you WANT to do with them?”

 

“What?” still confused, though looking slightly more relaxed, he leans in to your touch.

 

“Just do what you feel like you should be doing.” you continue. “I'll tell you if you're doing something wrong, just-” you lean in, and with a swift motion change positions, you atop him. “Follow my lead.”

 

You bring him into another kiss, not as hard, much less focused as you run your hands down his body, tracing the eves and divots of thinly veiled muscle under his skin, initiating a grinding motion with your hips. He seems to get the idea, one hand planted firmly on your ass, nails digging into the skin and the other on your breasts.

 

He's picked up on the rhythm you've started, slow, lingering. You used the hand that isn't firmly gripping his ass to pull his pants the rest of the way down. Your heart leaps into your throat when you feel his stiffening cock freed, pressed taut against your bare stomach, and just as you reach out to wrap your hand around it you find yourself on your back, pressed down flat, your shorts tugged the rest of the way down off your legs.

 

He's above you, piercing blue eyes narrowed, pretentious smirk spreading across his face. He leans in, breath heavy, cock heavy, pressed between your legs.

 

“I think-” he rasps against your ear. “-I can take it from here.”

 

Bodies together, sweat mingling, he gives you no time to catch your breath.

 

He's inside you. Oh god he's inside you all too fast and not enough and you cry out breathlessly, arching your back as he fills you painfully slow inch for inch. He pauses, wincing,

 

“So fucking tight.” he murmurs through gritted teeth, and he's moving again, rhythm slow and steady, but hard, deeply penetrating as he bears down on you, harsh breaths wracking his ribcage, and

 

“I need you to move with me.”

 

It's nearly inaudible between breaths, eye heavy lidded, and for whatever reason his stamina was waning you were grateful, because if you went on like this any longer you'd break.

 

And you desperately want to break, as you rope your arms around his neck, pressing your hips into his and following him thrust for thrust. Tears pool in the corners of your eyes, every hair on end as the itching, burning pinpricks of heat finally burst beneath your stomach and you bury your head in his shoulder, doing your best to ride out your climax silently.

 

You can feel him tense against you, his strokes hard and erratic, his hands tangled in your hair. Your stuttering his name through the pulse of the aftershock sends him over the edge. He exhales sharply, and you feel him spasm within you as he comes hard, filling you completely.

 

Through the exhausted, oxygen starved haze, he loses his balance and falls onto you, shaking lightly.

There's silence. Your bodies pressed close, slick with sweat you can literally feel his heart racing against yours.

 

You see him,exhausted, satisfied beyond comprehension, blond hair plastered to his face and blue eyes half-closed, and decide that he's gorgeous. The most beautiful thing you've ever seen and you were a goddamn idiot for not taking advantage of this sooner.

 

“So,” you manage after you'd caught your breath. “If I was just your first girl-” you can't help a wry smile creeping across your face.

 

“Hm?” he murmurs, craning his head over to look at you.

 

“You mind me asking who your first was?”

 

The color drains from his face.

 

“You can't be serious.”

 

“Dead.”

 

He sighs, rolling onto his back, regarding the ceiling intently.

 

“Itachi.”

 

You cover your mouth, using every bit of self restraint not to scream

 

“WHAT?”

 

“Yeah yeah, I know.” cheeks flushed he turns away, looking embarrassed. “ It was a long mission, we were both really tired and stressed and everything, it just kinda happened. I mean it was YEARS ago, when I first joined. I bet he doesn't even remember.”

 

“You don't tell ANYONE, got that, un?” He narrows his eyes. “I swear I'll kill you, partner or no.”

 

You blink opening and closing your mouth several times.

 

“Partner?”

 

“Why not? Sasori-dana is dead and I can't fucking stand Tobi. “He smiles softly. “It'd be fun with you around, yeah?”

 

“But what about-?”

 

“I'll talk to Pain-sama when we get back.” Deidara blows out a breath, using his free arm to pull you up against his chest.

 

 

 

Despite the cramped quarters and the sweat, you find yourself drifting in and out of consciousness curled up at the blonde's side.

 

***

 

Hours later you're awoken by the sudden slamming of a door and the faint sound of rushing water.

 

You sit up suddenly, slamming your head into a support beam which in turn arouses a bleary Deidara.

 

It's only when you hear quiet footsteps outside the closet door do you grasp the situation.

 

“Deidara?” you whisper, rubbing your aching forehead, heart sinking.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“We're still in the fucking closet.”


End file.
